Tattoos, Cigarettes and Sex & The City
by lipstick-and-cigarettes
Summary: When Draoc's mother passes away, the Ministry decides to seize Malfoy Manor, and all the vaults. With no living friends or family, money or clothes, Draco is homeless. So, who is the one person who would possibly take him in? The Golden Boy himself, of course. Disclaimer - None of these characters belong to me. I just make them do stuff.
1. An Unexpected Visitor

1 – An Unexpected Visitor

Harry stared around his newly refurbished lounge-room in satisfaction. Number 12, Grimmauld Place was near unrecognisable from the miserable, cobwebby place it had been all those years ago when he'd arrived to the shrieking of Mrs Black. His eyes darted around the newly painted walls, and he stretched his (admittedly rather short) legs out, warming his feet against the fire.

In a celebratory mood, he summoned a crystal decanter of whiskey, and poured some into a matching glass. _Courtesy of the noble House of Black, eh Sirius?_ He grinned and took a sip, relishing the slight burn as it hit the back of his throat, staring into the merrily flickering flames. A stuttering knock at the door startled him out of his reverie – there weren't many people who had access to the house as such, since the Fidelius was still in place. Puzzled, Harry took himself and his whiskey, and padded downstairs to the ground floor, opening the door.

It was only Harry's Seeker reflexes that caught the glass of liquor in time as green eyes stared into silver. _What?_

"Potter. I – I need your help."

And then Draco Malfoy collapsed on the doorstep of Grimmauld.

Harry paced up and down the short rug in his hallway, outside a spare bedroom, pondering whether he should have perhaps put Malfoy in the yellow room instead of the blue_._ Shaking his head to rid himself of the unnecessary details his mind provided him with, Harry paused at the half-open door, thinking he heard stirring from the bed **Draco** bloody **Malfoy** (_of _all _the unexpected people!_) had been placed upon by Harry. Said brunette popped his head around the door, looking at Malfoy's pale, pointed and, it had to be said, haggard features.

"Malfoy?" he murmured, uncertainly. But the blonde's eyelids flickered slightly, and Harry stepped fully into the room, striding over to the bed and kneeling before it. Malfoy forced his eyes open, groaning as he turned his head towards Harry.

"Shit… my head… Potter?"

"Yeah, it's me... care to tell me why you collapsed on my doorstep which you weren't supposed to be able to find?" Malfoy struggled to sit up, and Harry placed a palm on his (extremely thin) chest, pushing him back into the pillows. "Don't strain yourself – I hardly need you collapsing all over again. Want some water?" Malfoy nodded, looking slightly relieved. Harry conjured a glass and filled it with cool water.

"I must apologise, Potter, for turning up without notice." Malfoy took a sip of the offered water, and continued. "But… well, as I said. I need your help. I'm not sure if you heard, but…" he took a deep breath, "But my mother re-recently passed away… and since I cannot come into my inheritance, as my father is still alive, but in Azkaban, the Ministry deemed it… prudent, to seize the Manor. And most of the family vaults." At this, Malfoy's voice caught a little. "And so I found myself with no home, no clothes, and no money."

Harry nodded. He had heard all about Narcissa Malfoy's prolonged illness and death; but definitely nothing about Malfoy Manor no longer being… well, **Malfoy** Manor. "I see… but, Malfoy… what on earth has this got to do with me?"

Malfoy looked aggrieved. "I… as much as I hate to ask, I have been forced to swallow my pride, and come to you for help. Look. I have no living family, no house elves, no friends, and now no money or home, either. So… and it pains me to admit this… you are literally the only person I could think of that would hear me out instead of just kicking me to the curb."

Harry hesitated, taking the glass of water from Malfoy's outstretched hands. "I suppose so… well. What is it you seem to think I can help with?"

"I – I… I need a place to stay. Just for the time being, I swear! All I need to do is get a job, in the Muggle world, I suppose, and then as soon as I've earned enough money to buy a place, I'll be out of your hair, and I'll pay you back. I just… please, Potter. There's nowhere else for me to go but back to the streets. And I swear on my mother's grave, I **will **pay you back!"

Malfoy had begun to sound positively hysterical, and he struggled to sit up again, giving a hacking cough and looking at Harry, all semblance of pride forgotten. _Merlin, what have I gotten myself into this time? He certainly knows how to appeal to my better judgement, I'll give him that._

Harry scrubbed his hand through his unruly locks, noticing absently that Hermione was right, and he really **should** get a haircut. "Malfoy, I… well, you know full well that I couldn't turn you out into the street. It's almost winter! You can stay, but… well. There will be ground rules, you realise. But I think that perhaps I should feed you first. And you most definitely need a shower, and some decent clothes."

Without really thinking about it, Malfoy gave a small choking sound, then flung his arms around Harry's neck, letting loose a string of rambling apologies and thankyou's into Harry's ear. Harry awkwardly patted Malfoy on the back, then gently unwound the pale, skinny arms from his shoulders.

"Alright, calm down. Like I would have said no, Malfoy, I'm not a bad person, and I don't hold grudges – well, not any more. I understand all you did in the war, and I understand how it feels to be alone and unwanted. You can stay here as long as you need. Just don't expect me to do all the cooking, yeah?"

Malfoy, still babbling his thanks, smiled and nodded vigorously. "I… you won't ever know how much this means, Potter. I swear, I will pay you back everything."

_Dear Godric…_

"It's okay, honestly, Malfoy. I made my peace with our schoolboy rivalry when the war ended, along with making my peace with everything else. Now, I suggest you don't exert yourself. You look completely worn out, like you haven't eaten in a month – you're all skin and bones." _Holy fuck. I sound like Molly… how in the name of all things holy -?_

Harry eventually helped Malfoy up, ordered him to shower, and eventually the blonde shakily made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where the fire was already lit.

"Kreacher!" Harry's wizened house elf appeared at the name, and happily prepared a hearty beef stew for the two men.

_Now all I have to do is tell 'Mione… and Ron… and the Weasley's… Oh, crap._


	2. Morning After

2 – Morning After

Harry woke to a delicious smell of strong coffee and toast wafting up from the kitchen. He breathed in deeply, and shuffled out of bed, shivering as his feet hit the cold floorboards. _Mmmm… Kreacher must be making me some breakfast…_

Still half asleep, Harry made his way down the creaky stairs to the kitchen. And then almost fell on his face.

Hermione was perched on the kitchen table with a cup of tea, chattering away happily as Draco Malfoy puttered about Harry's kitchen.

"Muuurghh…."

The pair looked over at Harry's dishevelled form, and Hermione let out a giggle.

"Quick, Draco, give him coffee, or he'll be like this for the restarry'sHarr of the day." Malfoy did as Hermione said, passing a huge mug of coffee to Harry, who had slumped in a chair. _Damnit, I forgot he was here… and _damn_, he makes good coffee._

"Um… 'Mione? Since when is he 'Draco', and since when do you two get along, and since when do you come over at whatever ungodly hour it is at the moment?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, and flipped several rashers of bacon into a pan, as Hermione snorted. "It's almost eleven, you lazy bastard. And he is Draco since I decided to call him that. And we get along since he explained to me why on earth he was here in the first place. And I came over because I wanted to know if you could mind Rose for the day, since it's my wedding anniversary, and somehow Ron actually managed to remember."

Harry took a gulp of his coffee. "So, you don't mind Malfoy's staying here for an unknown amount of time? And yeah, I'd love to mind Rosie, I haven't seen her in yonks. But I've got an appointment to keep… d'you reckon you could ask the Twins? I'm really sorry, 'Mione, but I've been booked in for weeks and it's not a place Rose should be."

"That time of the year again? Okay, but I'll ask Molly, not the bloody Twins. Rose plays enough pranks on everyone already. And no, I don't mind that he's here; Draco and I were actually colleagues for a few weeks, before the Ministry pigs took the Manor and Draco was fired from Gringotts." Hermione took a sip of her tea.

"Yes, we were. Also, Potter, how many eggs do you want?"

Blinking, Harry chugged the rest of his coffee. _It's gonna be a while before I'm used to him being civil…_

"Erm… just three, I think. Not very hungry. Hermione, since you're already here, d'you wanna stay for brekkie?"

"I can't, Harry, Draco, I'm sorry. Ron's promised me something 'big', apparently. Fingers crossed I get some, eh?"

Harry nodded, standing up creakily as his joints protested, grimacing at the mental images she had conjured. "Ew, Herm. So did not need or want to picture **that** this early. Or ever." He stretched, then gave Hermione a hug goodbye.

Hermione just leered at Harry, giggled, then left by the Floo, shooting a goodbye to Malfoy.

Malfoy raised his brows at Harry, who still seemed pretty out of it. "More coffee?" he said as he dished up a huge plate of eggs, bacon and toast. The brunette stared at the plate, his mouth watering.

"Please. Blimey, Malfoy, this looks great!" And with that, he started wolfing down his food like a starving man. Malfoy looked at him from an opposite chair, lips twitching slightly in amusement as he sipped his Earl Grey and shredded his toast.

"Someone's hungry. You're acting like you've not eaten in months."

Harry grinned, looking up at Malfoy, fork poised over some egg, "Nah, I just like food. Didn't get fed much when I was a kid. And you know, you actually **look **like you've not eaten in months. How long has it been since you had a square meal, anyway? Apart from last night's stew."

Malfoy pursed his lips, unconsciously counting on his fingers. "Well… Mother passed on three months ago… and then it took the Ministry bastards half a month to get all their paperwork and shit so they could seize the Manor… and then I stayed at a Muggle homeless shelter for another two weeks… but I had to move on after that… so I've been wandering a lot… so, I think it has been about two months. Give or take."

Harry paused, a forkful of bacon halfway to his mouth. "Are you telling me you've been homeless and starving for two months?" _Bloody hell, no wonder he looks like a starved sewer rat. A rather good-looking sewer rat, though… wait, what?_

The tips of Malfoy's ears turned pink, and he looked down at his nearly untouched breakfast. "Yes."

"And so you aren't eating this admittedly wonderful breakfast, becaaaauuuse?"

"I – I feel ill, actually. But I am glad you find the food to your satisfaction."

Harry pulled a face. "You didn't need to make breakfast. Why didn't you tell me any of this last night? Where do you feel ill?" He got up and walked around the large oak table to Malfoy's side, looking at him intently. He pressed a palm against the pale forehead, and jumped slightly. "Merlin, Malfoy, you're burning up!"

Said blonde looked up at Harry from under his fringe. "Am I?" Harry nodded in the affirmative.

"You really should work on those communication skills of yours. Now, I suggest you get to bed. I'll get Kreacher to find you a new set of pyjamas and bring you some chamomile tea. Okay?"

Malfoy nodded and started to make his way shakily over to the stairs, only to stumble five up. Harry, who had been watching from the archway to the kitchen, leapt after him, and held his elbow with a steady hand. "You, sir, need sleep. Lots of sleep. Come on, now." And with that, he led Malfoy up to the third floor, to the blue spare bedroom. "I see Kreacher has already found those pyjamas. Just get some rest, yeah? I've got to go out for a few hours, I have an appointment, but you can holler for Kreacher if you need something." Malfoy just nodded silently, and Harry left as he grabbed the pyjamas.

Five hours later, Harry arrived home, in a fair bit of pain, and needing a shower. Remembering his ill guest, he slowly padded up the flights of stairs, knocking at Malfoy's door. "Malfoy? You awake?"

There was movement of the mattress, and Malfoy opened the door sleepily. "You're back then, Potter. It's almost dinner time."

Harry nodded, wincing slightly as he crossed his arms. "Yeah, you hungry? Thought I might give Kreacher a break tonight and cook myself, what d'you say?"

"I would love some food, actually. Would you like me to help prepare it?" Harry shook his head.

"No, Malfoy. You still need to rest. Besides, I'm making chicken soup, which I could do in my sleep. I'll give you a yell when it's done." Harry turned and started down the stairs stiffly.

"Potter?" Harry turned back, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you wincing?"

Harry grinned, "Ah. I was wondering if you'd ask. I got a new tattoo, actually." And he kept right on down the stairs.

"Oy, Malfoy! Dinner's ready!" Harry called up the stairs. He sat at the kitchen table in front of a steaming bowl of soup, in front of which was a line of potions in varying colour. Malfoy padded tiredly downstairs, still looking sickly and thin, but the bags under his eyes had lessened.

"Dig in, then," Harry said, gesturing to the other bowl of soup, and the large basket of crusty bread. He downed the vials of potion, grimacing. Malfoy watched interestedly as he blew gently on the soup.

"What are the potions, Potter?"

"Potion for the pain, one to stop any swelling, and another to prevent infection. Is the soup good?" Harry sipped a glass of water, smiling when Malfoy nodded. "Good. Chicken soup's good for the soul, or so I've been told."

Malfoy just raised a brow, and continued sipping the broth. Harry joined him, and the men finished their meal in silence, bar the slurping noises Harry made. Much to Malfoy's disgust, of course. Eventually, the plates were dumped in the sink, and Harry flicked his wand so they started washing themselves.

"I love magic," he said happily as tea towel dried the last of them.

"Indeed… say, Potter, do you have a television?"

Harry nodded, looking slightly surprised at the question. "Yeah, just through there. Erm… why?" Malfoy just smiled slightly, and made his way into the loungeroom that joined onto the kitchen.

"If my calculations are correct, the new season of Sex and the City should be starting tonight. Where's the remote?" Harry blinked, summoning the remote control and tossing it to Malfoy.

"Malfoy, has anyone ever told you that you're camper than a row of tents?" The blonde just rolled his eyes, settling himself into an armchair and flicking the TV on. Harry smirked, and sat across from him. "Bloody ponce. By the way, have Carrie and Mr Big gotten together yet?"

Malfoy whipped his head around to face Harry so fast his neck popped. "Oh. My. Gods. **You **watch Sex and the City? And **I'm** the ponce?"

Harry roared with laughter. "Not quite, Malfoy. Rose always comes over to watch it, cause my TV's bigger than the one at her place. So I'm forced to watch with her, of course. Godfatherly duties and all that," he said, summoning a beer from the kitchen. "You, on the other hand, have no excuse. Also, I must apologise – I'm fresh out of fruity cocktails."

Malfoy just glared at Harry before turning his attention back to the TV. Harry cracked the beer and hooked his legs over the arms of his chair, grinning as the opening credits of the show started. _I never said it wasn't a good show, though…_

Draco yawned as the end credits started rolling on his TV show, closing his eyes and snuggling against the seat. Harry was already asleep, forgotten beer abandoned to the coffee table, after he had chucked a small fit after having to witness "Ohmygod, ew, hetero sex. Ew, ew, ohmygod," as he had said, much to Malfoy's amusement.

Well, here was as good a place to sleep as any, he decided, lulled by the occasional breaking log in the hearth, and Harry's gentle snoring.


	3. More the Merrier

**A/N: **So, I really should have put all this in earlier. I remembered _after _I published it, but I'm too stupid to work out how to edit stuff I've published. Assuming that's actually possible, which I don't think actually is. (Please don't burst my bubble of ignorance by telling me I can).

Also, heaps and heaps of thankyou's for the reviews; I know I'm moving a little fast, but don't worry, after this chapter I do slow down a bit. Just needed to get into the thick of things so I can (work out) what the plot is actually going to be. (I may or may not have any actual idea of where I'm going with this story…) And yes, I know this chapter's short. So I'll put up Chapter 4 as well. Because I love you guys thaaaaaaaaaaat much. ;)

**Disclaimer: **I don't ownHarry, Draco or any of the other characters. I just make them have sex with the right people, unlike in a certain epilogue. *cough, J.K, cough*

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Warnings: **Sex, het and slash, probably some lovely bondage later on. Parseltongue, and other kinky stuff like that.

**Rating: **NC-17

**Summary: **It's 18 years after the war, and Harry lives alone in Grimmauld place, which has been totally refurbished. And they burned Mrs Black's painting (and good riddance). Remus and Sirius lived, as did Fred. Ginny was in a coma for three years after Voldy was offed, and Harry discovered he prefers blokes (der). She's with Dean Thomas now.

3 – The More the Merrier

Malfoy woke to the sound of a loud banging on the front door. He looked around the lounge groggily, his eyes settling on Harry's sleeping form.

"Great. I will kill Potter if it's some mad Weasley, and I get hexed," he grumbled, as he made his way to the front door, looking through the peephole, to find his only view was a shock of bubblegum pink hair. "What the- ?"

Opening the door, he found a lanky teen standing in front of him, backpack slung carelessly next to his feet. The teen, who, Malfoy now saw, was covered in various piercings, looked up at him from under his fringe. "Cousin Draco?!"

Malfoy looked bemused. "Cousin? Honey, you are **way** too young to be Andromeda's son, and Bellatrix never had kids. So I think you might be a little confused."

"No, no, Andromeda's my Grandmother… um, my mum… your cousin, Tonks… she's dead. And Harry's my godfather, and I'm living here for a bit before I go to uni. I'm Teddy, by the way." Teddy stuck his hand out at Malfoy, who took it and shook slightly.

"Oh. Well. I guess you should come in, then. Potter's asleep in the loungeroom, would you be a doll and wake him up as loudly as possible?"

Teddy grinned, and picked his bag up, following Malfoy down the hall and into the loungeroom.

"OY! Harry! Wake up, you lazy bastard," Teddy yelled, kicking Harry in the shin. Harry yelped, and rolled from his chair to the floor, swearing like a sailor.

"Fuck, Teddy! D'you wanna give this old man a heart attack, then?" Teddy just laughed, helping the fallen man up, who winced as his arm was pulled. "Jeez, watch it. Finally got this year's ink, wanna see?

Teddy rolled his eyes at Harry's complaints. "Go on then, old man, show me your ink." Harry obliged, turning around and taking his shirt off, revealing his (rather nicely muscled, Malfoy noted) back. There, scrawled over the top of it, just above his shoulder blades, were the words 'Neither can live while the other survives', written in beautiful cursive.

"Awesome, Harry! How many have you got now?"

Harry pulled his shirt back on hurriedly and turned, sitting back down in the armchair. "That one is number… eighteen, actually."

Malfoy watched interestedly from the doorway, flushing slightly as he caught sight of the tanned back. "Really, Potter? Eighteen Muggle tattoos?"

Harry laughed. "What makes you think they're all Muggle? Believe me, I have some awesome Wizarding ones… it's probably a little inappropriate to show you, though." Teddy smirked at that, then grabbed the abandoned beer from the table, casting a cooling charm on it.

"Oy, you can't have beer in the morning!" Harry was looking scandalised, and Malfoy chuckled.

"Cool it, Harry. You realise it's quarter to three, right?" Harry's face turned to mild irritation as he glimpsed the clock on the mantle.

"Shut up, you little smart alec. Shouldn't you go unpack, anyway? And it's your turn to make dinner."

Teddy poked his (pierced) tongue out, sipping the beer as he left the loungeroom. Malfoy was watching Harry with interest. "What does the tattoo mean?"

"Ahh. Well, the reason I was the only one able to kill Voldemort was because of a prophecy made when I was born. 'Neither can live while the other survives' was part of it, and getting it as a tattoo… I dunno, it just kind of seemed appropriate, you know? Although a few of my other tatts are just because I thought they looked cool…"

Malfoy snorted derisively. "I guess that's as good a reason as any to have needles stuck into you."

Harry winked at him, grinning, then sat back in his armchair, summoning the remote and settling in to watch Mamma Mia. Malfoy followed suit, grinning when it turned out to be Harry's favourite movie as well.

_Maybe it won't be so bad, having him live here. _Harry smiled a little as he watched Malfoy half singing, half mouthing the words to Dancing Queen.


	4. Doing it the Muggle Way

4 – Doing it the Muggle Way

Malfoy woke bright and early in his room at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. It had been a week since he'd collapsed on Harry's doorstep, and already, he was looking healthier. Even better was the fact that he, Harry and Teddy were all getting along famously. It seemed that when Harry had made his peace with everything, he had meant it.

He padded downstairs to the kitchen, to find Kreacher pottering about, cooking pancakes. "Morning, Kreacher," he said cheerfully, and supressed an eye roll as Kreacher greeted him in his usual cheerful way.

"A very good morning to you, Master Malfoy. Would you perhaps care for some pancakes?"

Malfoy grinned and sat at the table, where he was served delicious pancakes smothered in syrup and H

Harry made his way groggily down the stairs to the kitchen, led by his nose, which had detected pancakes being cooked. He entered the room to the sight of Kreacher cooking, and Malfoy hungrily eating a huge stack of pancakes. Harry smiled and sat opposite him.

"Morning, blondie," he said, grabbing the Prophet that the other man had abandoned. "I see you've regained your appetite. Feeling better?"

Malfoy glared at the nickname, but nodded. He was indeed feeling better, it seemed, if a little anxious. He swallowed his mouthful, then pushed his plate slightly away. "Much better, Potter. So I think that now I'm not sick any more, I should start looking for jobs." Harry looked over the paper in surprise.

"Sure, that's a great idea. Do you want the Prophet's job section?"

Alarm was written all over Malfoy's face, "No! Merlin, definitely not. I can't go for a job in the Wizarding world. Why d'you think I got fired from Gringott's? I'll need a Muggle paper."

Harry's surprise increased at these words, and he put the Prophet down, frowning. "You're going to get a **Muggle** job? Do you think you could cope?"

Apparently it was a bad thing to sound so disbelieving, because Malfoy looked peeved. "You needn't sound so surprised, you know. Survive and adapt. I will get a Muggle job, and I will do it well."

_I bet he will, too… he survives in any situation. After the apocalypse, the only thing that'll be left alive are Malfoy's and cockroaches. _Harry chuckled at the imagery that thought conjured up, then schooled his face into a serious expression at Malfoy's huff of irritation.

"I have every faith you will, actually. I'll pick up a paper soon, then."

Malfoy nodded distractedly as he watched Harry's throat work as he swallowed his morning coffee. Harry looked up suddenly from the paper, and their eyes locked. The pair stared at each other for a stretch. _Merlin, have his eyes always been so… silver?_

Then Teddy walked in with his usual fanfare, sporting bright green and purple hair, and the moment was gone.

Malfoy was Potter-Watching. Again. It was a habit he had picked up after his first day at Hogwarts. Of course, it had been mostly an unconscious habit, up until their fifth year – the year he had realised he was gay (after yet another fumbling attempt at shagging Pansy), the year he had realised his father had lost all remaining scraps of his sanity to Azkaban, and the year he had been forced to take the Dark Mark.

At that thought, his pale hand rubbed at the tattoo that still remained, even after all these years. Harry noticed the movement from across the loungeroom, and looked up at Malfoy, giving him a crooked smile. Smiling weakly back, Malfoy resumed his 'reading'. Which actually involved watching Harry more than anything else.

Harry, he mused, was not typically handsome. His hair was atrocious. He still wore those spectacularly ugly spectacles, and his nose was a little crooked. Possibly from when Malfoy had broken it, actually. His mouth was a little thin, his lips red and chapped from being bitten so regularly. A nervous habit. The teeth hiding behind those lips were a little crowded, and not completely white. But those **eyes**. Green as the Killing Curse, disarmingly so… but it was what was hidden behind that extraordinary colour that captivated Malfoy. Whirling pools of emotion, a lot of it completely unreadable. And Malfoy was a complete sucker for them.

But it wasn't just Harry's appearance Malfoy observed. His movements, his habits… it intrigued - and he couldn't tell you why if you asked. Of course, everyone found the Golden Boy, who was a bit of a recluse nowadays, intriguing. But Malfoy liked to think that he was better at reading people's behaviour than most. Take now, for instance – Harry was reclined in another overstuffed armchair, reading some Muggle book. Another horror, probably. Why did he read those, anyway? It wasn't as if Harry hadn't had enough horror to last him several lifetimes. Maybe it was because the authors of the novels, for the most part, didn't really have a true sense of horror. They hadn't had to bear witness to their father's killing, raping and torturing other human beings. They would never really know what it was like to be tortured themselves, after they'd failed task from a madman hell-bent on ruling the world, magical and Muggle alike. They would never know what it was like having to kill or be killed. Or know the agony or trying, futilely, to protect their family from said madman. They didn't –

Malfoy shook himself from his more than depressing train of thought. So much for Potter-Watching. Harry looked up again at the irritated sound and quiet thump of a closing book.

"Malfoy? What's up?"

"Nothing. Just can't concentrate. You know, since I've been living here for almost three weeks, and probably shall continue to do so for the foreseeable future, I think it would perhaps be prudent to address me by my given name."

At this, Harry smiled that crooked smile. "All right. Glad to have permission from his highness."

There was that smile again… a shiver ran down Draco's spine. He hid it by rolling his eyes at Harry, and putting the unread book away.

_Draco… I daresay that'll take a bit of getting used to. But it's better than calling him Malfoy, I suppose._

Said Malfoy stretched by the bookshelf, a peek of snowy skin showing as his shirt rode up. _Mmm… pretty. Um. I mean… ah, crap._

A blush stained Harry's cheeks faintly, and he looked back down to his book, realising that he'd turned at least three pages without taking any of it in. Damn. He copied Draco and closed his own book, rolling his spine and filling the quiet room with the popping of his spine.

"Say Ma- Draco. You're working tonight, yeah?" Draco nodded the affirmative. "D'you wanna take a walk before you gotta go to the restaurant? I'm sick of being cooped up in the house, I've been working all day."

A blonde eyebrow was arched – Draco **still** hadn't figured out what it was that Harry did for a living. No matter, he supposed. "Sure, Potter. We can pop into the grocer's, there's a few things I want to pick up."

Both men exited the loungeroom, talking animatedly all the while as they bundled themselves up against the chill weather (Harry's fingers were crossed that there would be snow in time for Christmas) and strolled along the streets of Muggle London.

An hour later, the pair found themselves in front of the restaurant Draco worked at (Harry **still** couldn't get over the fact that he waited table's) and an awkward silence settled over them.

"So, uh… here we are, then."

"Yes. Well, Potter, I'd better go inside. Manager hates when I'm late, and I need to get into my uniform. Want me to bring home the leftover's for dinner?"

Harry raised his eyebrows – Draco hadn't offered to do that before, "Yeah, sure. Just nothing with garlic in it." Draco nodded, then gave a wan smile before entering the building and leaving Harry feeling a little alone. He quickly found a dingy alley to Apparate from, and arrived on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place.

Cracking a beer, Harry sat in front of the TV, staring unseeingly at another repeat of Friends. _What's with Ma- _Draco, _lately, anyway? Every time I look up, he looks embarrassed, or looks away. Does he think I don't notice? Not that I'm sure of what I'm noticing, but still…_ his train of thought was interrupted by the front door slamming, and Teddy calling out.

"'M in the loungeroom, Teds. What's up?"

A flushed Teddy stuck his head round the door, today sporting blue and red hair with a sweeping fringe so that Harry could only actually see one half of his face. "Just thought I should tell you I've got company. So um… yeah. Could you not, like, come up to my room and stuff?"

Harry just looked at Teddy, who blushed. "That's okay with you, isn't it?"

A smirk that was rather reminiscent of Draco's crawled across Harry's face. "Just don't forget to use a silencing charm."

For that, Harry received a snort. "Yeah, right. Like I could forget. I'm still traumatised from the last time **you** forgot a silencing charm."

The smirk turned into a grimace and a blush. "Shuddup, ya brat. I wasn't **that **loud..." The silent 'was I?' hung in the air, which they both ignored. Teddy gave one last eye roll before retreating from the lounge. _Smartass… I'm not loud in bed… probably._

* * *

**A/N: **This is probably the last chapter of this fic that I'm going to upload. I'm sorry, I know a few of you liked it, but I have absolutely no idea what I was actually planning on doing with this fic, it really had no plot whatsoever. I'll try and continue To Be Beautiful, but I can't guarantee anything.  
Thanks to all the lovely people that gave me such good reviews, and I'll hopefully upload chapter 3 of my other fic soon :)


End file.
